Jordan Reclaimed

by Scarlett Cole

  “What the hell, Dad,” she complained. “You know how important sleep is.”

  “I have news for you. You can ask Sophie, your scheduler, for time off soon, yes?” Her father looked too animated. She wasn’t used to seeing him in the morning without a hangover. It had been a long time since she had seen him look so excited about anything, which sent red flags flying in all directions.

  “I can,” she said cautiously. “But it isn’t guaranteed in the schedule. I only get confirmation forty-eight hours out about whether I am needed. But you know this, so why are you asking?”

  “I am so happy, Lexi. To think that I am able to help make your dreams come true. On your next day off, we will go together to New York to meet with an old friend of mine. Pavel Tatarinov was an accomplished dancer. He stayed in Russia to dance with the Kirov. Now, I have huge excitement. He is becoming associate artistic director of the American Ballet Theatre. I have arranged for us to meet.”

  Her father stood waiting, eyes bright. Moments like this tore Lexi in two. Part of her wanted to believe that her father honestly suffered from depression. That she needed to continue to be understanding, sympathetic even, when it took over his life. But his mood swings were too connected to her and her life. When she was being compliant and getting rave reviews, or when he found another of his friends in an influential position with a dance company she had no intention of joining, his mood was like this. Happy. Excited. He even had a spring to his step. But when she wasn’t doing what he said—when she was out with friends, or had a poor performance for any reason—her father would be down. Or worse, furious. She didn’t want to be the girl who wouldn’t look after her own father, but the shifts in his behavior suggested that he did it to control her.

  Nor did she want to get on a plane and fly to New York on her only day off. But the dance world was incredibly tight, and she didn’t want to piss Tatarinov off by reneging on the meeting her father had already set up on her behalf.

  “You had no right to organize that without talking to me,” she said quietly.

  “Yes, I do. I am your manager. No?” her father said.

  She made a mental note to talk to her accountant. As a self-employed ballerina, she was always looking for ways to optimize her earnings. So when her accountant had told her many years earlier that she would be able to write off her own father’s salary if she employed him, it had made great financial sense. She would be able to pay him a salary, pay his Canadian Pension Plan, and put money back into the family without having to carry so much of the tax burden. They’d set up the bare minimum salary, and her father had assumed the mantle.

  “On a piece of paper that we provide to Revenue Canada every year to support why I pay you money, yes you are. But in every way that matters, you’re not. However, I’d be very foolish to cancel the meeting with an associate artistic director from a prestigious ballet company after it was made to appear that it was something I really wanted. In order to keep my reputation intact, I will go meet with him.”

  “I knew you would see things my way,” her father gloated. “Seeing you are now awake, we should go train. Get ready. We have some time before you need to leave for class.”

  Lexi stepped back and closed the door with a little more force than was necessary. It was either that or shout at her father that her decision had nothing to do with his way and everything to do with saving face.

  While it pained her, she knew her father would be able to help her understand and finesse her upcoming role of The Lilac Fairy. When she was dressed in her leotard and ballet shoes, she walked up to the dining room that been converted into a rehearsal space. Her father started her at the barre with basic arms and legs, pushing her further and further through floor work until she was drenched in sweat.

  “Okay, brisé devant. Start croisé in fifth, through fourth, changement, back to fifth. Give me height in the air, not just clearance from the floor. On my count.”

  Lexi began to jump and soon felt the sudden sharp sting of her father’s cane. Never hard enough to mark her or truly hurt, but enough to remind her when her legs lacked lift, or her arms were lazy.

  “I said height. Jump, Lexi. You are like a block of wood.”

  Lexi repeated the jump and again felt the crack of the cane.

  “You are getting heavy. Sluggish. Weight is a problem as you get older,” he shouted.

  If her partner was struggling with the lifts and her father was noticing issues with her jumps, maybe she was the issue. When she’d first joined the ballet, she’d had a huge list of body issues, from the size of her highly defined calves to the fact she wasn’t completely flat-chested. It had taken the intervention of one of the other dancers to make her realize that starving her way through her career was never going to work as a strategy. Yet over the years, she had tried everything to fix her focus areas, but had come to the conclusion that controlling her food was the only way that worked for her. And now she could stand to lose a few more pounds.

  “Again,” her father cried out. This time the thin end of the cane caught her on her hip and Lexi cried out as she dropped to the floor like a stone.

  “That was too hard.”

  “Dancing is hard,” her father replied. “If you fear the bite of the cane, you will remember to jump higher, no?”

  “I need to stop,” Lexi protested. “I’m going to have nothing left for class.”

  “Well, we can increase practice to every morning. ABT is one of the great classical theater companies. We need to help you stand out. They will appreciate your strength, now we must get you the lift.”

  You are going to save face. You are going to save face. It didn’t matter that ABT focused on classical because she wasn’t going to go there. She was staying with the National Ballet where they had a contemporary repertoire that was as strong as their classics. And she was going to make her mark in it this year.

  “And you will lose ten pounds,” her father announced. “I will help.”

  * * *

  The door to the hotel room snicked shut, and Jordan dropped his bags in the hallway. The back-to-back appearances in L.A. had drained him of the will to live. If he could just make music, and only occasionally tour, that would be perfect. He loved nothing more than coming up with new songs. Dred had always been the better lyricist, but when it came to the music, nobody could beat his ear for riffs, harmonies, and melody.

  As much as it pained him, he knew the publicity was a necessary evil. Over the years, he’d found different ways of coping with it. Simple things, like sitting furthest away from the interviewer and letting Nikan and Dred take the lead.

  Exhausted and tired after the delayed four-hour flight into Detroit, Jordan was ready to collapse into bed. The room itself was inoffensive. Subdued, large enough, clean. Yet sure enough, there was a painting, this time of a boat, and more lamps than were useful. Like just about every hotel room he stayed in. One more day of interviews and he’d be on his way home. Back to Lexi, who’d be making her way home from Ottawa.

  It had been nine days since he last seen her. Nine days since she’d held his cock in the sweet soft palm of her hand and brought him a release he not been able to replicate in the time since. Nine days since he’d kissed those sweet lips of hers.

  In those nine days, he’d stopped vacillating about Lexi and had fully embraced the idea that he had his first-ever girlfriend. In fact, he was kind of proud of it. No amount of teasing by Lennon had stopped him from checking his phone every chance he got. Sometimes there was a message from her; sometimes there was a picture. One photograph, she told him, was her new professional shot. He could barely take his eyes off her in her loose crochet top and tight shorts. She was in a subway car, standing en pointe—a term he now understood, thanks to her—and holding onto the metal pole with her other leg raised straight up in the air. Her hair was down, and her lips were pouted. It was now his photograph of her in his contacts.

  From what he could tell from their many stolen conversations, L
exi had been a success in Onegin, the ballet she was performing in Ottawa. Tonight was the final night of the show, and one of the reviews Lexi had sent him said she’d soared triumphantly as the self-possessed Tatiana. At Dred’s suggestion, he’d arranged flowers to be delivered directly to the National Arts Centre for her on opening night. And so what if he got a little carried away? When the florist asked him how many pink roses he wanted to send, he’d had no fucking clue. One hundred had been the first number that had popped into his head. It had been worth every dollar to see the excitement on Lexi’s face while they’d video-chatted as she sat in her changing room surrounded by them.

  Frustratingly, she’d been about to tell him exactly what she was going to do to him to say thank you, words that had already gotten his hand down the front of his jeans, when one of her fellow dancers had burst into her room asking about hair clips. It might have killed the mood then, but he so wanted to pick up the conversation now.

  Which was why he shucked his clothes at record speed, draping them item-by-item over the chair next to the desk. Normally he’d shower, unpack maybe, and he definitely wouldn’t get into bed at a little after eleven, especially not when most of the guys were going to be in the bar for the next couple of hours. Tonight, though, he was more than happy with the free in-room water and his phone.

  Hey, Sexy-Lexi. You there?

  He opened the water and took a sip. There was no reply. Reaching for the remote control, he flicked on the TV and scrolled through the channels until he found sports highlights. Looked like the Pistons had played their rivals, the Bulls, and won. That explained some of the crazy shit they’d seen getting from the airport to the hotel.

  Jordan looked down at his phone. Damn. He hoped he hadn’t missed her. He’d been so excited to see her and talk a little dirty with her that he already had the makings of a boner.

  Suddenly inspired, he found the camera function on his phone. He wasn’t going to send her a full-on dick pick, just a little visual incentive to call him back, or something to tease her in the morning when she woke up.

  He threw back the comforter and arranged the sheet so it just covered his evidently hard dick. She’d told him that she liked his abs. Well, hopefully she’d like his artistic interpretation. Quickly, before he chickened out or the little voice on his shoulder that was trying to convince him that this was a bad idea won, he snapped a shot. For the first time, he realized the gym was more than just a place for getting rid of his anger. If Lexi loved his six-pack, he was going to work doubly hard to keep it.

  Your gratitude for the flowers got me all kinds of hard.

  As he pressed send, he wondered if she’d reciprocate. She wore little clothing when she performed sometimes, and she had no reason at all to not have confidence in her body. It was long and lean and toned and . . . fuck . . . he would never get rid of this boner. Perhaps he should get into the shower after all.

  His phone vibrated.

  OMG!! Give a girl a heads-up, will you? Now I’m all hot and bothered.

  Jordan laughed. So was he. Want me to help you do something about that?

  Two minutes, I’m in the elevator at the hotel.

  Jordan flopped back into bed and wrapped his hand around his cock. The poor thing wasn’t used to this kind of dry spell. He realized he hadn’t had sex in over a month. The extent of his sex life had been one pretty fucking epic hand job, but it wasn’t bothering him as much as he’d thought it would.

  Lexi’s picture popped up on his phone as it started to ring, and he answered it quickly.

  “Hey,” he said gruffly when her face appeared on the screen. It was scrubbed clean of makeup, and her hair was loose around her shoulders.

  “Hey, yourself, you tease,” she said, grinning. “How is a girl supposed to handle that kind of shot in an elevator full of her coworkers?” She propped the phone up on what appeared to be the bedside table and started to pull off her coat and put down her things.

  “No tease here,” he replied, watching as she tugged off her boots. “More than willing to assist you in any way I can.”

  Lexi turned away from the camera and slowly yet deliberately lowered her track pants over her hips and down her legs, giving him an amazing shot of her ass in a pair of sexy-as-fuck white boyshorts edged in lace. All the blood in his head raced to his dick, which stood to attention stiffer than his mic stand.

  “Goddamn, woman,” he growled. “You want this over before we’ve started?”

  She turned back to face him and laughed mischievously. “Keep those hands where I can see ’em, at least until I’m naked.”

  He raised one arm. “The other’s holding the phone. Honest.” He placed his hand over his heart to emphasize the promise and was shocked at how fast his heart was pounding.

  Lexi pulled the sweater over her head, followed by the gray T-shirt. “So what were we talking about?” she said, standing before him in her sexy white bra and panties. She kicked her hip out to one side.

  “I think we were talking about how you need to get on a plane to Detroit and get that sexy ass in my bed, like right now.”

  Instead of answering him, she picked up her phone and flopped into bed. For a moment he couldn’t focus on anything as the phone moved around quickly, but finally it settled, and it appeared that she had propped it up on a pillow far enough away from her that he could see from her face to her finger that was tracing a line along her stomach, just inside the waistband of her panties.

  “Can I ask you a question before we go any further?” Jordan asked, and Lexi’s face turned serious.

  “Anything, Jordan. You know that.”

  “Are we going to do this for real? You and me? I’m happy to explore and enjoy until you’re ready, but I need to know we’re heading for the same place.”

  “I already assumed we were doing this for real,” she responded shyly, as if momentarily losing her nerve. “I mean, I did put my hands down your pants and . . . umm . . . you know.”

  Of course they were. It was a stupid thing to ask. He just had no idea of the timeline, and he needed a clue. “You might have to lead me here, Lex. There are so many things I want to do with you. For you. I just need to know when you are ready.”

  “I’m ready. Never been readier for anything in my whole life. Tell me what we’d do, Jordan,” she said breathily. “I need to hear you tell me because I’m dying from imagining what it’s going to feel like.”

  “You want to know what it’s going to feel like when I go down on you, tasting that sweet fucking pussy of yours?” he said, and watched, mesmerized, as she slid her hands into her panties. He gripped his cock firmly and angled his phone so she could see him the same way he could see her. “You want to know what it’s going to feel like when I slide this so deep inside you, you’ll feel pinned to the bed by my tongue and my cock?”

  Telltale tingles ran down his spine, making the small hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Lexi’s cheeks had turned pink, clearly not from embarrassment but because she was as turned on as he was. “You want to know what it’s going to feel like when I pump into you so fucking hard you forget your name?”

  “Jordan,” Lexi gasped. Part of him wanted to stop her. To tell her to move those goddamn panties so he could see what she was doing to herself, but he didn’t think he could stop even if housekeeping suddenly barged in for turndown service. He gripped his cock even harder.

  “Yeah, Lex. I feel it too. You’re going to be so fucking wet, and I’m going to be even harder than I am now, and it’s going to be so fucking perfect as we grind up against each other. I’ll make sure there’s pressure to that beautiful clit of yours. And you’re going to come so hard, you’re going to scream my name . . .”

  Jordan breathed harder, faster, his balls tightening. He was going to come, and he wanted her to see it. Wanted her to come with him. “And then I’m going to ride you, Lexi. I’m going to slide in and out that wetness I can see seeping through your panties right now . . .”

  “
Oh, God, Jordan,” Lexi cried as she rubbed frantically against the heel of her hand. Her mouth opened, her eyes closed as she shuddered in the most perfect orgasm.

  Jordan tugged his cock harder, faster, at the sight of her, and cried out her name in release.

  * * *

  Lexi stepped into the Walter Carsen Centre and sighed. Snow had made the trip back from Ottawa a slow and painful affair. She stopped at the board that held the week’s rehearsal schedule. Being away from home had messed with her routine. Normally she would have studied it as soon as it came out on Friday, but with being away, and the added distraction of Jordan, she hadn’t even opened the file.

  After a big performance, there was usually a little slack in the schedule. But hers was packed. Rehearsals continued for Sleeping Beauty and a new interpretation of Orpheus from a Dutch choreographer, which was taking longer to perfect than the ballets they did often, like The Nutcracker. And then there was Manon, which would take them all the way out until June.

  Casting had been announced for a ballet in the early fall. It was a new contemporary ballet, and again she’d been overlooked for the lead role. It had gone to Li Yan, the tiny dancer who was constantly referred to as the next Sylvie Guillem because of her heart-stopping contemporary technique. Lexi tried not to be too disheartened, but it was difficult. She made a mental note to talk to the director. The only way it was going to change was if she directly had the conversation with them and expressed her desire to do more contemporary roles. Hell, she’d even go on her own dime to sign up for courses to develop her skills if that’s what she needed to do. But she was never going to improve if she didn’t dance in that style more.

  Lexi left her luggage in the dressing room and went upstairs to see if she could nab a couple of spots on the physio sign-up sheet. Dancing as she had for the last few days had aggravated her ankle, and she wanted to get treatment soon before it became an ongoing problem. Peter, one of her favorite therapists, saw her standing in front of it.